


You love me, right?

by cassiem



Category: Block B
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiem/pseuds/cassiem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taeil is babying Pyo Jihoon and the maknae can't stand it anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You love me, right?

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _It was so sweet that I had a terrible nightmare_   
>  _We had started everything from the beginning_   
>  _You’re not here but everything is the same_   
>  _In this dream the moment you left me_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _A cruel night is endlessly coming to me_  
>  _I close my eyes again, taking me back to that dream_
> 
>  
> 
> _Into an eternal dream that I won’t ever wake from_
> 
> Vixx - Eternity  
> 

Taeil’s crushes often manifested themselves in weird ways. In fourth grade, he was infatuated with the girl who had sat in front of him. He still remembers her, Minji, and her round moon face with her two braids that sat neatly down her back.

He also remembers cutting off one of those braids in the hope of her noticing him. It didn’t work, of course, and his mother had to be called into the school, and he had been made to apoligise.

This crush was possibly one of the weirdest, though, he thought as he stood behind Jihoon, looking at the younger man’s back as he bowed.

Jihoon, of all people. It couldn’t have been reserved Yukwon, or cheeky Kyung – no, his heart had decided to fall for the tall, goofy maknae.

He started, feeling a poke in his ribs, and came back to his senses.

Right. Awards show. He should probably pay attention, he thought, grabbing the mic off Minhyuk. Plenty of time to think about Jihoon later.

//

It’s the plane rides that are the worst, he thought, gazing at the water on the tray table in front of him that shook as the plane weathered the turbulence.

They aren’t a large band, not in terms of popularity (although they are up there) and SeSea isn’t a big company, so they never fly first class. Once they got business class and Taeil remembers Jihoon leaping around, excited at the exorbitant seating and complimentary champagne and hot cloth.

This time was, as usual, economy, stuffed in a cabin with 200 other people, mainly Chinese businessmen heading home. They didn’t know who Block B were, and if they did, they didn’t care; no one on the plane had recognized them, which was a pleasant surprise.

By some stroke of luck, the airline had assigned Taeil a seat in the middle of a three-seater, with Jihoon on his left and Jiho on the right. Jiho had his laptop out and was typing away furiously (probably lyrics), but Jihoon was asleep. He had pulled his eye mask down and plugged in his headphones the moment the plane left the ground.

Taeil stirred as Jihoon’s leg brushed his as the maknae shuffled in his seat, too small for his gangly form. Taeil shivered, although he wasn’t cold.

Jihoon’s closeness was unnerving him.

//

Blackjack, or 21, was what Taeil affectionately called ‘Block B’s Official Game’. Whenever they found themselves bored in a hotel room, before or after a concert or fanmeet, they would arrange via the group’s katalk to meet in one room and get outrageously drunk and play the card game.

Jaehyo was the best, Jiho was the worst, and Taeil wasn’t either. He managed neither to lose nor gain any money which, he thought, was fine by him – Jiho’s reaction at losing yet another 1000 won had turned him off high stakes betting.

Jihoon, however, was a surprise. He had a clever numbers brain hidden behind those bright eyes and, more than once, he had found himself sweeping the table.

It was one of those times, in China, when it first happened.

//

Set the scene: The seven of them, drunk and slurring, parked around a table, piles of bills in the center (to not lose _too_ much money, they had a limit of 50,000 won), each of them trying their best to win it.

Taeil had maneuvered himself next to Jihoon, justifying it by the somek he had downed (on a dare – Kyung’s – he _despised_ somek) more than once. Occasionally, when he had a bad or a good card, Jihoon would lean over and moan drunkenly into Taeil’s thigh.

It turned him on.

Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone, and, in fact, he spent most of the night trying to hide it, shuffling uncomfortably whenever Jihoon’s head dipped and Taeil felt his hot breath on his thigh. It was amazingly erotic.

Taeil was losing, badly – taking the heat off Jiho for once, who was relentlessly teasing his hyung about it (much to Taeil’s displeasure).

Jihoon threw his cards down on the table suddenly, making Taeil jump, and whined, “I’m sick of this game. Can’t we play something else? Like poker?”

Jiho rolled his eyes, too drunk to deal with any of the maknae’s shit. “This is the game we’re playing, and if you don’t like it, you can piss off.”

“Hey, that was a bit harsh.” Taeil interjected, feeling the rage come off Jihoon next to him in waves. “Come on, Jiho, leave him be. He’s just had a bit too much to drink.” Taeil pretended he hadn’t slurred that last word.

“Fuck you, Taeil, I don’t need you to stand up for me. I’m not a baby, you know.” Jihoon snapped, standing up suddenly, towering over Taeil.

Taeil flinched. Now _that_ was uncalled for. Not that Jihoon seemed to notice, or care, as he stormed out of the hotel room, ignoring Taeil’s weak pleas for him to come back.

The other five of them looked at Taeil like he had all the answers.

He wished he had.

//

The second time was on the flight back to Korea. Again, through some miraculous stroke of luck, Taeil had been placed next to Jihoon, this time, in a two-seater.

Their interactions had been tense since that night, and even the Chinese BBCs who had seen them perform live had picked up on it, and it was all over twitter that Taeil and Jihoon were ignoring each other.

Taeil sighed, slumping further down into the seat so his chin touched his chest. If only that was true. He’d tried to approach the maknae several times, to apoligise, to question, but was turned away with a glare each time.

The plane ride had been tense for the first 20 minutes, before Jihoon had given up on staring out the window and fallen into a deep sleep.

Taeil eyed the maknae, all arms and legs spread out over the seat. How such a tall and gangly individual could be so fluid, so slick on stage was beyond Taeil. He loved the way Jihoon moved, full of confidence and with his head held high.

Not now, though. Now the younger man was asleep, his face smoothed of any worries, looking much younger than he did when he was awake. Not that he liked being reminded of that.

Taeil looked up the aisle and saw the airhostess working her way down towards them with the trolley. Aah, finally, it was his least favourite part of the flight: pick through the airplane food and try to find something edible. He usually gave up on the curry or whatever and just ate the bread roll.

He poked Jihoon, once in the thigh and then, when he didn’t stir, once in the side, directly where he hated to be tickled. He shot upright, shaking his head, a smile on his face, before he realized it was Taeil and that they were fighting and turned away with a frown.

Taeil bit his lip. How could he apoligise if Jihoon wouldn’t even speak to him?

Then the airhostess was there, asking if he would like some wine, and Taeil shook his head and asked what the food was.

“Today we have a butter chicken curry, or a beef sandwich.” The airhostess replied, her forced smile cracking at the corner of her lips.

“Chicken, two, please.” Taeil said in his poor English, holding out two fingers so she understood.

He knew Jihoon loved chicken curry, especially butter chicken, and so had made the choice without thinking and was shocked when he turned to Jihoon and saw the other man positively vibrating with rage.

“You son of a bitch.” Jihoon spat.

“What? What’s wrong?” Taeil replied, a flush creeping up his neck to redden his cheeks. What had he done _now_?

“You babied me! Again! For god’s sake, Taeil, I’m not six years old! You’re not my dad, bossing me around and telling me what I’m going to eat!”

The hostess was frozen, her arm outstretched offering a tray to Jihoon, confused at this eruption of Korean in front of her. Jihoon looked up at her and positively snarled, “I’ll have the beef, please.” in perfect, albeit accented, English.

She nodded, a bit stunned at what had just happened, and handed him a different tray.

Taeil sunk down in his seat and hid his face in his hands.

Fuck.

//

The third time… The third time was different. Very different.

The dorm, back from China. The two hadn’t spoken since the altercation on the plane, and things in the dorm had been tense.

Taeil was miserable. He hadn’t realized that he had been babying Jihoon but now, when he looked back on it, he supposed he had been, and when he realized, was mortified. How would _he_ feel if someone was making all his decisions for him and never giving him an opportunity to speak for himself? Taeil had just thought of it as taking Jihoon under his wing, but the maknae had clearly not seen it that way. He didn’t blame Jihoon for snapping at him on the plane, even if the Korean age hierarchy said it was a sin to do so and that Jihoon should respect Taeil at all times. Taeil didn’t want that.

He was pacing his room, feet sinking into the carpet, hands balled into fists as he realized how much he had screwed up. No _wonder_ Jihoon had snapped at blackjack, and then on the plane; Taeil had been ‘looking after’ him for years.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to make up for this, he realized as he sat on his bed, bouncing up and down. To make matters worse, the rumors on twitter were getting out of hand, suggesting that Taeil and Jihoon were having a lover’s spat.

Taeil laughed out loud. He wished.

He had just reached over to grab his laptop, to try and watch a movie or something to try to distract himself (after visiting numerous countries around the world, never again would he take Korea’s fast internet for granted) when the door opened and Jihoon was there, his frame filling the doorway, bursting into the room, filling Taeil up from the inside.

Taeil blinked and Jihoon hadn’t moved.

The maknae’s eyes were red-rimmed and brimming with tears and he was worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Taeil leapt up, alarmed at Jihoon’s tears, before reminding himself that he couldn’t protect Jihoon anymore. He waited for the younger man to speak, toes clenching into the carpet, wishing he were anywhere else.

“I want to be my own person, Taeil.” Jihoon said, his voice thick and deep and rich and Taeil wanted to fall headfirst into it and never come up again.

“I- I know, Jihoon, and I apoligise-” Taeil began, stuttering.

Jihoon narrowed his eyes and as he did so a tear fell and made its way down his cheek. “I’m not finished. I want to be my own person, but I can’t. Not when you are everywhere, suffocating me with _you_.”

Taeil blinked once, twice, stunned.

Jihoon stepped forward, his voice thick with tears now. “Don’t you understand? You are everything to me, you are all I think about, and I hate it. I despise it with every fibre of my being because you are the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and _fuck_ , Taeil, I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t ask for you.”

Taeil didn’t move. His heart was racing so fast and so loud he swore it was about to detach itself and rip through his chest.

“I hate you, Taeil, but I fucking love you, too.” Jihoon took another step, the tears flowing freely.

And then they were kissing.

Looking back, Taeil didn’t really remember who met who, only that one moment, he was staring at Jihoon’s eyelashes, stuck together with tears, and the next Jihoon’s mouth was on his and he was standing on his tiptoes, pushing his body into Jihoon’s, falling and losing his mind in the kiss.

He didn’t really remember who started taking off their clothes, only that Jihoon’s fist was at his belt and he wanted to rip himself open and give himself over to the other man.

So he did.

//

That was the third time, and that was the last time Taeil had spoken to the maknae, who was ignoring him and had been doing so for two weeks now, the weight of what they had done lying unspoken, unnoticed by others, between them.

Taeil hated it.

Jihoon hated Taeil.

Everything was right with the world.

//

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _OMG i love your work! can you write a taepyo fic where pyo is all defensive of his taeil always standing up for him and babying him. I need a dose of taepyo feels! some fluff adorable taepyo feels haha either some extreme cheesiness or some serious angst is good lol amazing writing skills btw i read and love all your posted work_
> 
> So I did my best with the serious angst part, lmao. Screw happy endings.


End file.
